The Things We're Not
by S.J. Kohl
Summary: Rufus ponders Turks and sex and Geostigma and explosions. As for the eventual plot and pairings of the story, which seems like it's going to be long...I'm not sure yet. Let me know what YOU want to see. Rufus/?, Reno/Rude, Tseng/?. Post-AC.


**The Things We're Not  
Part 1/?**  
By S.J. Kohl

Pairing: Rufus/I don't know, Reno/Rude, Tseng/I don't know.  
Rating: NC-17, most likely.  
Summary: I don't know. Currently Rufus is pondering Turks and sex and Geostigma and explosions and even Aerith.

**A/N:** I wrote this pretty much stream of consciousness, because I had Rufus on the brain. Which explains the rather rambling nature of the whole thing. Actually, I wrote it as a way to complain about the way I've seen Reno written too many times lately, and I didn't end up doing that at all… So. I have no idea what it is, and no idea where it's going or what I should do with it. **Actually, some ideas and feedback would be amazing and incredibly—repeat—incredibly helpful. Read: the more useful feedback I get, the easier it is to update the story!**

* * *

Sometimes it's the things you're _not_ that make you who you are. Where had Rufus heard that? He couldn't remember. It had been years since it had been said to him, if it ever had. Well, there was definitely _one_ thing Rufus was not, anyway.

Flawless.

Even his memory failed him, on occasion.

Oh, he preferred not to admit it, preferred for the world to see him as some sort of demi-god, above the faults of mere mortals. And they had, for a time. But not for long. He'd been younger than he cared to remember when Sephiroth and Meteor had played out their game, just barely twenty-two. No, he definitely hadn't held the world in his power for long. But most people didn't remember that, that he and Cloud had been born the same year, that he was only a few months older.

Of course, he preferred they didn't remember. In fact, he'd played the proper games and executed the proper moves to ensure they would forget. Even the Turks seemed not to remember, most of the time, that he was years younger than all of them, except for Elena. The rest of the time, well…it didn't matter anyway. They were the Turks. He led; they followed. That was how the game was played.

He was not merciful.

He had switched to a different game, had realized the need to rebuild and rejuvenate the planet and recognized the folly of the inventions of his father's scientists, definitely, but he was not merciful. He was expedient; he was thorough, and he was ruthless.

He was not a hero.

Such titles were better left to Cloud Strife, who didn't want them anyway. Rufus was a businessman, and he would always be a businessman. The facts, however, were indisputable. One could not do business in a world gone down in a hail of fire and debris. And it was inadvisable and unprofitable to market a product that would, ultimately, lead to the destruction of your business. Shin-Ra Company no longer manufactured and marketed electricity. Instead, they gathered and trafficked information; supplied military manpower as needed; provided skilled labor for the rebuilding of cities and towns, and provided transportation, both public and private. They also offered medical services, particularly to those affected adversely by mako, and they were currently seeking a cure for the remaining Geostigma victims. In short, they were running things, and no one had noticed yet.

Rufus planned to keep it that way for quite some time. Shin-Ra was still small, still rebuilding. But they were growing. And their influence on society was subtle, but it was strong, and getting stronger. Rufus _had _changed in the midst of the debacle with Sephiroth and the black materia. He had finished growing up. It had taken some time, after his father's death, but he no longer saw the need to rule the world through fear. Give the people what they wanted—employment, safety, security—and they followed. Oh, there would always be dissenters, but if dissension turned to violence, the Turks were well-equipped—and eager—to handle any situation. Turks, after all, were the best.

And Rufus was not without standards.

He sighed and leant down to brush out a slight wrinkle in his coat. He wasn't in Midgar. He was a fair distance from the city, actually, just walking through the seer grass of the plains with Tseng following a discreet distance behind. It was good to see the sky sometimes. Standards, though…standards were the root of his current difficulty. It had never been a problem before the explosion and the Geostigma. Until that point, he had never slept with any of his Turks. Secretaries, yes, business associates' wives or daughters, of course, even the occasional lab assistant. He'd always been a firm believer that business and pleasure were not meant to be mixed together. And while sex was often business—and not only when conducting affairs with a prostitute—the Turks were _always _business. He needed their trust, their loyalty, their respect, their obedience, and trading sexual favors was not the way to go about garnering those things.

The explosion had changed everything. Shin-Ra had been shaken back down to its foundations, and Rufus had been left weak, injured…mostly dead. The explosion… It had shattered the Turks and left him with four who were…family. There was no other way to explain it. They had found him, healed him, cared for him, and, in the case of Tseng, practically returned from death for him. There had been no reason, and no profit. He'd gone over it a thousand times and more since then, and he could not find a single, legitimate reason for them to have stayed behind when the others had fled. And certainly not after he contracted Geostigma.

The explosion had left him weakened and scarred, and the Geostigma had sucked him down from weakened to withered, physically useless. He'd had moments of strength, of course, such as the rooftop dive he'd taken to keep the Jenova cells away from Kadaj, but they were short-lived and came with a heavy price. There had been no secretaries then, no bored, high-class married women or naïve, corruptible virgins. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him in that state, and it would not have been prudent, in any case, with the Shin-Ra reputation in shambles as it was.

But Rufus Shinra was no longer without family, and he formed a unique sort of partnership with each of his four Turks over the time between the explosion and the return of Sephiroth. They kept each other company, the five of them. They came to know one another personally, truly personally, as they never had before. Oh, Rufus had always known their pasts, of course, but, in many ways, he hadn't known _them_ and they hadn't known each other.

The sex had come later, after the Geostigma had begun to set in. It hadn't happened often, and it had been something they had needed as much as he had, but…when it had happened…well, it was like nothing Rufus had ever experienced before. A good bit of it had been sex with men, and, yes, that was different, but that wasn't the only thing. It was…it had been…

Rufus shook his head in disgust and cast a quick glance over his shoulder at Tseng. Just walking, about twenty steps behind him and a bit to the right. Seemingly paying no attention whatsoever to what was going on ahead of time. Rufus snorted. A complete illusion, of course, but a skillful one. The sex…it had been occasionally awkward and often painful, more so with every day the Geostigma caused further degeneration in his body. Painful, yes, and he just couldn't quite figure out what it was that had felt so good about it.

Still…it wasn't something any of them had felt the need to continue after that strange rain had fallen, the one that the dead Ancient girl had called down. Rufus still wasn't sure why she'd chosen to heal him—he was sure she could have avoided it if she'd desired to—but he felt ominously certain she was going to require something from him, someday, in exchange. Rufus frowned. He was _not _inclined to make blind deals. And he was not inclined to take sex where he had to rather than where he wanted. He was healed now, still scarred but strong and fit, and powerful, once again. There had been a point in time when he could have bedded just about anyone he wanted, and life was quickly taking him on to another such time. The problem?

Rufus laughed, a low grunt of a chuckle.

The problem was Rufus Shinra did _not _want. No secretaries, no dignitaries' daughters or businessmen's wives. Not that he hadn't bedded all of these and more since he'd gotten Shin-Ra Company back on its feet—prostitutes, barmaids, fighters, even an ambassador's son or two, but the whole experience had rather lost its appeal.

Perhaps it was just that he knew the Turks too well, had learned too much about them through this experience.

Reno, for instance, was _not_ a bottom. In bed, as in everything else, he was lazy, insubordinate, and utterly dominant. Though he could and did follow orders as well. Rude, surprisingly, was much less dominant or dominating in bed than Reno was, though calling him a submissive would not only be entirely inaccurate but insulting as well. He was slow, curious, and even languorous at times, though he did hard and fast as well as only a man of his size could. Unlike Reno, however, Rude did not offer himself up grudgingly or only under order, but willingly, and far more often than Rufus would have imagined. Rufus supposed it worked out well for them, as the two were something of a pair of lovers. For how long, he wasn't sure, but he suspected it stretched back for a number of years.

Elena…was wild and exhilarating. She was very free and not at all ashamed to _show _her enjoyment of anything. She was as much a thrill to watch as she was to touch. Her favorite position, like any Turk worth the name, was on top. And Rufus imagined he would find her to be a demon with a strap-on had he cared to ask her. She gave the most incredible blowjobs. He'd always heard that gay men gave the best blowjobs, but Elena…well. She had a wicked mouth and the balls to use it however she wanted.

And Tseng…

Tseng was an enigma. Rufus got the impression that he didn't particularly enjoy sleeping with men, as a general rule, but it was obvious by his skill with a man's body that it was something he'd done a number of times before. His emotions came in flash thunderstorms, powerful and violent but short-lived. Sometimes he clung and clawed and shuddered and panted and cried out, strangled. Others, he remained utterly silent, his eyes closed and his breaths drawn in slowly, steadily, even in the midst of orgasm. It changed from moment to moment. Sometimes he was violent and dominant; others, completely submissive. He was fascinating, and, even after all this time, Rufus still couldn't figure out what it was that was driving him.

But he did know, really, what was driving _him. _

Rufus was not one to settle for less than the best. And the Turks _were _the best, in this as in everything else. Oh, there were new Turks now, rookies in training as the company expanded once again. But they weren't the same. They weren't family. At least, not yet. But the best was, again, something he could not have without mixing business and pleasure, and that was always dangerous. And besides, Reno and Rude were what they had, evidently, always been, a partnership impractical to shatter and cruel to impose upon. Elena was evincing an interest in Tseng, and growing more obvious about it with each passing day. And Tseng…well, Tseng didn't like sleeping with men, and that was enough reason not to mix business and his own pleasure where Tseng was concerned, even if he _did_ happen to be an exception, which he wasn't willing to depend upon.

So Rufus had a choice—settle for less, or wait for some other…best…to come along. But Rufus Shinra was not impatient. He could wait. And he could search, could use the time to find out who was _really _worthy of the effort, who was truly the best. Someone…perhaps someone who encompassed the different talents, tastes, and abilities of all his Turks, and someone who equaled them in personality, skill, loyalty, and dependability.

Rufus snorted. Impossible tastes. He was someone with impossible tastes. No…he was _not _someone _without _impossible tastes. "Tseng," Rufus called out over his shoulder, waiting for his dark shadow to slip up beside him.

"Sir?" A cool voice, low and far too serious.

Rufus smiled. "Let's get the bikes. It's time to return to the city."

"Of course, Sir," Tseng nodded.

Ah. There it was, that fire behind those dark eyes of his. Tseng loved little else more than riding motorcycles, and it showed in his eyes, in the life flaring up, for just a moment, into black lightning. It burned, and Rufus…Rufus couldn't breathe, but he almost laughed anyway. Impossible tastes, indeed. He would never find someone to rival Tseng's personality alone, much less those of Elena, Rude, and Reno as well.

Doomed.

He was doomed to be chaste and celibate forever.

Rufus sighed and headed off toward the bikes.


End file.
